


Sundown

by purrpickle



Category: The Huntsman (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 05:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15701091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purrpickle/pseuds/purrpickle
Summary: Queen Freya had her own set of battle armor. Always calling for one of the newest children, she'd stand still and solid, like a block of ice.





	Sundown

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this soon after seeing the movie (as well as browsing tumblr and the Freya x Sara content), but had only decided recently that this was worth sharing.

Queen Freya had her own set of battle armor.

Always calling for one of the newest children, she'd stand still and solid, like a block of ice, quietly murmuring and directing them to buckle her in. The already blood-touched steel would wrap slowly around her body, clumsy fingers and hands going as ordered, the inevitable frightened gasps of the child disappearing and quieting between the intricate ties.

Sara, having been one such child, remembered the sundown when, pulling the same armor from her new queen's body, she'd first gotten the rust of blood stuck under her fingernails. She'd been staring down at her hands, fingers curling, when Freya had ordered her back to the barracks, dismissing her with barely a glance. There'd been still red streaked along her face and chest, voice flat as she'd sent Sara away, but Sara had never forgotten the dark blue of her frozen eyes, as fleeting as the look had been.

The same frozen eyes, in fact, just as dark blue, that she'd come face-to-face with years later as one of the queen's most promising Huntsman, only half-hidden behind Tull's broad shoulders before she'd stepped forward, baring herself. "My Queen," she'd greeted, fist pressed close to her heart, legs bent as she'd dropped, head lowered, "I am Sara. Your Huntsman."

There had been silence. Then, "Sara," Freya had answered, voice level, eyes sharp and mouth straight, "They who call, 'The One Who Never Misses'. You swear to the North?" She'd stood tall, the blue of her eyes practically glowing as she'd stared directly into Sara's heart, piercing deep inside her, "You swear to your fellow Huntsmen?" Her gaze had narrowed. Her voice had hardened. "You swear to  _me_?"

And, knowing nothing more than fealty to the woman whose army had spirited her away, all those years ago, Sara had agreed. Had sworn. Had given herself over. Had never, years later, after love had been proven to be sin and worth less than ever imagined, the slash of blood still as red as ever over the most porcelain of skin - hers included - the blue of Freya's eyes never fading, ever  _forgotten_  who she'd sworn to.

And so it was, simply, by the grace of God and her Queen that Sara had endured the dungeon. Purposefully and resolutely turning her face toward the threat Snow White's domain offered, her Queen - her  _Freya_  - always at her back, she'd already readied herself for wherever the Winter would turn, the memory of Freya's frozen fingertips brushing along her cheek, her face bowing ever and ever closer enough to keep her going…

Until the exact moment she'd set eyes upon Eric. Her Huntsman. Her husband.

Her everything Freya was not.

And her heart was split.


End file.
